Point of No Return
by fly-away-free
Summary: [ONESHOT] 'And you’re sitting here, in the early morning, wondering how things got so bad. How you got to this, this point of no return.' Bit of insight to Petunia Dursley's life, what made her hate Lily.


You look at her and you can feel the hate burning in your eyes. The jealousy consumes you. Anger rises up and chokes you. But you turn away. Walk up the stairs. There is nothing, nothing you can do. Nothing you would let yourself do. You hear her laugh, so tinkling and clear, and you hear a smile through her pure voice as she flirts with the boy you love. Now you feel sadness, grief. For yourself. You pity yourself, and the low level you feel you've sunk to.

You sit on the stairs, hidden in shadow, behind the corner of the wall so that you don't have to see her face. Her perfect face. Rosy cheeks, vibrant red hair, shining green eyes. You put your head in your knees.

Even before she got her letter, you didn't like her. She puzzled over this. Even at such a young age, Lily was accustomed to having _everyone_ like her. You would push her away, acting snobby, and she would look at you with her big green eyes and say, so innocently, 'Why, Petty? Why don't you like me?'

And she would sense your burning hatred for her and back away, looking slightly scared.

The truth was, she was too perfect. She was everything you weren't- the apple of your parents' eye, the sweet, beautiful little girl who understood people. She was perfect, but withlittle flaws, flawsthat madepeople love her,and you hated her for it.

After she got her letter, every morning for a year, you would look on the doorstep, around the front of the house, searching, searching, for a letter of your own.A letter thatwould invite you into some of the perfection of her world. Maybe you could love her if you could _just_go and share in the secret world that she had, her home away from home, her escape.

But you gave it up. You stopped hoping for a magical escape of your own. When the footsteps of the postman came, you no longer got up to check if the mail was for you. When the phone rang, you didn't think it was somehow Hogwarts calling, saying they forgot to send your letter. You just gave up, and faded away.

You learned to live with it. You learned to cope. Oh, it was hard.Butyou couldget by, pretending you hated magic, thought it was ugly and unnatural. But in reality, you loved it. Thought it was beautiful. You would watch, fascinated, as Lily brought home Chocolate Frogs, and sweets that would make you float, and all other sorts of candy with magic tricks.

And she took it all for granted. You loathed her because she was part of a world where floating in the air was commonplace, and enchanted objects zoomed around all over the place. Most of all, you loathed her because you could never be like her, would never share a part in that world.

So you coped. All the way to her seventh year, you were fine. You figured out how to deal. Until she brought home James. He was wonderful. Laughing, joking, a prankster, and (even you could see this) totally and completely in love with Lily.

Well, you fell for him. Fell for him hard. And he was nice to you. But you always acted like you hated the boy. James was nice, sweet, but he was no idiot. After awhile he began to only say hello when it was required by politeness, and turning away quickly to avoid your sharp tongue.

A month later, you packed up and left home. To go live with Vernon, your soon-to-be husband. He understood your hate for magic, or at least, he thought he did. Never would he know how jealous you secretly were. No one would.

And years later, they died. Just like that. And the last thing you had said to her was, 'Since you won't get out of my life, I'm getting out of yours.' And she looked at you, her eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't place. Hate? Anger? Confusion? Heartache? Pity, maybe? Maybe a mix of all of them.

And the day you got Harry and the letter, you couldn't believe it. Reeling with shock, you sat down. All you could see was that look in her eyes.

And you never got to tell her. Tell her that you were sorry. About all the years of hate, jealousy. Never got to tell her that she was your beautiful sister, and you loved her more than life itself.

But it's too late now. She's dead. And James. Him too. And you're sitting here, in the early morning, wondering how things got so bad. How you got to this, this point of no return. And you wonder if you had embraced your sister, and loved her, if things would have been different. But now you'll never know. And you're left with a fast-fading memory of hate. Of tears. Of anger and envy.

And your last thought before you go back to your dull, meaningless existence:

_I wish I had loved her like she deserved to be loved._

A/N: Okay, so this is my first shot at an angsty kinda thing in awhile. Like it? Hate it? REVIEW!

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